


parking in cars with boys

by icygrace



Series: Reezy Knows Best [6]
Category: Olympics RPF, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: F/M, Family, Family/Fluff, Future Fic, Humor/Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, crack/humor, family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:59:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icygrace/pseuds/icygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twins are fighting. Their dads lay down the law. (And look hot doing it.) Also, The Talk and not-so-gratuitous trolling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	parking in cars with boys

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Father Daddy Pop Reezy Knows Best collection. Lulz and fluff, as the RKB fics tend to be, for a change of pace. For sparkagrace, whose thoughtful words are always appreciated. Reviews are love and loved. More notes at the end.

Oliver leaves the toilet seat up. He showers and forgets to turn the fan on after and Lo’s hair ends up frizzing up just from a few minutes in the bathroom. He uses her moisturizer and lies about it because _of course I don’t use moisturizer_.  Once, he accidentally broke the bottle of absurdly expensive perfume Hilary gave Lo for Christmas. He never replaces the toilet paper.

 

Lo borrows Oliver’s razor for her legs so it ends up all dull and he nicks himself. She leaves hair in the drain in their shared bathroom. The contents of her makeup bag are always strewn all over the sink, _even though she already takes up, like, all the cabinet space_!

 

Oliver once used Lo’s toothbrush on the dogs.

 

Then Lo used his to clean the toilet. 

 

But the yelling over that stuff is over pretty quickly and isn’t really all that loud. Ryan and Michael can barely hear it if they’re downstairs.

 

So the volume of Oliver’s raised voice catches Ryan’s attention right away, even though he’s upstairs. He skids into the kitchen in stocking feet to find the kids right up in each other’s faces.

 

“YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO –”

 

“YOU’RE _NOT ALLOWED_ TO TELL ME WH –”

 

“Yo, stop yelling!”

 

The twins actually pipe down. Well, mostly pipe down; they’re both mumbling – probably cursing, despite their poor dads’ trying so fucking hard – under their breaths.

 

But that doesn’t last long.

 

“Why is it so hard for you to mind your own business?”

 

“It _is_ my b –!”

 

“No, really, I told you to quit i–”

 

“Like you don’t even know what she –”

 

“Oliver, I told you –”

 

“I didn’t do anything _wrong_ , you self-centered prick!”

 

“Shut up and sit down, both of you.” They might get away with murder sometimes, but calling each other names isn’t OK. Not when they actually mean it.

 

Oliver silently picks up his post-practice sandwich and drops into a chair with a petulant _plop_. He glares down at his turkey and Swiss (with mayonnaise, lettuce and tomato, on whole-wheat) like it offends him.

 

Lo hops onto a stool at the island, where she’s got her own snack set up. She dips one of her baby carrots into a ranch cup and takes a vicious bite out of it before huffing and slouching, arms crossed, perfectly mirroring Oliver at the table.

 

It makes Ryan want to laugh.

 

Just then Michael comes in and looks around, confused. “What’s up? Looks like a funeral in here.”

 

“Where everyone hates the dead girl, maybe,” Oliver mutters.

 

“The dead guy, you mean,” Lo retorts.

 

“OK, not a good comparison. Maybe more like your dad the time you drove his car into a fire hydrant.”

 

Ryan didn’t speak to Michael for a week after that; it took a flawless repair job and lots of other “jobs” to help him get over it. He already had to teach Lo to drive in the first place (before a million hours with an actual driving instructor) because Michael had the fucking nerveto win rock paper siccors. And then when the driving instructor _supposedly_ (still seems fishy) got into a minor car accident on the way to the road test, Michael let her use _Ryan’s_ car that he oh-so-conveniently borrowed for the day.

 

His was in the shop, like he didn’t have another car. _But then I’d have to go the parking garage_. Blah, blah, blah, cry him a river.

 

“It wasn’t properly installed; the officer even said it was supposed to be further into the–”

 

“Bullshit. You probably just gave him your favorite _who me, I’m so innocent_ fa –”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“Both of you _be_ _quiet_ , like I told you.”

 

 _Sorry_ , Michael mouths.

“It’s OK,” he mumbles so the twins don’t hear.

 

“So . . .” Michael hesitates. “What’s the problem?”

 

The twins of course jump in at the same exact time.

 

“ _She_ –”

 

“ _He_ –”

 

“ _Stop!_ Your dad asked you a question and yeah, you gotta answer it, but stop talking over each other. ‘Cause you’re acting like babies, I’m gonna make you take turns. Oliver, you go first.”

 

“Well –”

 

“ _You can’t be serious_!”

 

“Lo –” Ryan starts.

 

“He’ll totally bias –”

 

“Lauren Elizabeth, stop it,” Michael jumps in. “Let your brother talk.”

 

“I hope you step on a lego,” Lo hisses at Oliver, who shoots them a hard-done-by look before he starts again.

 

Except then he ups the ante. “I hope you step on _two_!”

 

“ _Oliver Wayne!_ ”

 

“It’s not like I told her to step on a rusty nail.”

 

Michael rolls his eyes.

 

“Anyway –”

 

“Stop!”

 

“ _Dads_!”

 

“Seriously, am I gonna have to cover your mouth, Lo?”

 

“Well maybe if you let me talk fir –”

 

Ryan has no choice. And when Oliver blurts out, “She’s got her claws in Charlie!” he has to actually _hold her back_.

 

She shrieks, “I can’t believe you!”

 

“Aren’t you a little old to be this possessive of your friends?”

 

Oh, poor, silly Michael; he wants to pretend, too, but he’s figured out just what Oliver –

 

“Friends?” Oliver scoffs. “ _Friends_ don’t put their tongues halfway down each other’s throats.”

 

“Because sometimes I think Hilary’s right that our family life is an absurdist comedy,” Michael starts, sounding awfully calm, “I want to make sure that you’re referring to just your sister and Charlie and not you and – ”

 

“Gross _,_ Dad.” Oliver coughs. “I mean, like that’d be like making out with _Lo_ , well, like not _literally_ incest, but al –”

 

“OK, now that we’ve cleared that up . . . Lauren, you have some explaining to do.”

 

“It’s not like I committed a _crime_! Oliver doesn’t own him, he’s being totally –”

 

“I’m less concerned about the who and more concerned about the what.”

 

“Seriously? I’m 16.”

 

 _Lo, Lo, Lo._ Ryan’s shaking his head inside. He’s with Michael here (of course, this is their little girl, c’mon), but he almost feels bad that she has no idea just how much that little comment is gonna backfire on her.

 

“So what, you just make out with random boys –”

 

“First of all –”

 

“Whenever you want? Next thing, you know, sex and bam, you’re . . . pregnant!” Michael shivers.

 

So do Ryan and Oliver and even Lo, but she just says that “this isn’t _Riding in Cars with Boys_.”

 

“Isn’t what?”

 

“My life is not _Riding in Cars with Boys._ ”

What even is that?

“Never mind. Old movie.”

 

“It’d be right on if the title were _Parking in Cars with Boys after Practice_ ,” Oliver snarks.

 

“Anyway,Aunt Megan made me and Dalia watch it once. Life lessons or whatever. It was the worst. But what I was saying is he’s not some random, he’s my boy –”

 

“No. No. You are _too young_ for a boyfriend.”

 

“I’m 16!”

 

“Exactly!”

 

“What’s not too young, then? You’ve never said.”

 

“You never asked.” Michael sounds as childish as the kids right now.

 

“Well, now I’m asking.”

 

“Don’t turn this around on me, you’re the one who –”

 

“The one who what? Kissed a boy? Literally every person in this room has done that at least once.”

 

 _Oliver_? Who blushes. Interesting. They’ll have to look into that. But Oliver just says, “Yeah, doubt it was just once, sis.”

 

“What’s it to you?”

 

“That you’re –”

 

“You don’t get to tell me who to date –”

 

“I don’t _care_ who –” _Sure_. “Except that it’s not one of our friends!”

 

“Pity, I was going to go for Tim after dumping Charlie.”

 

“Dads, she’s obviously not taking this serious–”

 

“Talk about the pot calling–”

 

“This whole argument is moot because _you don’t get to date_! Which on that note, didn’t it cross his mind to talk to us fir –”

 

“He’s not asking for my hand in marriage!”

 

“No, just seducing you out from under our no –”

 

“Dads, obviously _Lo’s_ the one –”

 

“Considering homecoming –” Fuck, Missy really is the devil – “And the Jimmy thing, it’s probably not like one-sided –” Ryan doesn’t realize he’s accidentally thinking out loud until he notices Oliver’s eyes practically bugging out of his head. Oh, right, he made everyone promise they wouldn’t tell Michael about that little incident. Because cheerleading. And now because kids you treat like your own can come out of nowhere and snatch up your baby g–

 

“What Jimmy thing?” Michael and Lo ask at the same time.

 

“Long story. Long, long story. You were saying?”

 

“You’re too young to date. End of story.”

 

“So when _can_ I date?” Lo insists.

 

 _Never_. Ryan can even see Michael’s lips silently forming the word. “Not yet,” he says instead.

 

“But when?”

 

“We’ll let you know.”

 

“That’s unfair!”

 

“Not unfair. Time to figure something fair out,” Ryan pitches in before she can go full-tantrum.

 

“I don’t think it’s that complicated. Obviously, the rules should be the same for Oliver and me. That’s settled –”

 

“Lo, you are not the parent –”

 

“How old were you guys when you had your first relationship? Did you wait till you were 16?”

 

 “I was, uh – I was older,” Michael answers.

 

“How much older?”

 

“Seven-uh – seventeen.”

 

“What about you, Daddy?”

 

And he can’t answer, because he was 15 and he can’t lie like Michael did. “I – uh, I don’t remember.”

 

“I bet Grandma does. Maybe even Grandp –”

 

“15!” So much for being good under pressure.

 

“See? See! And most of my friends –”

 

“But that was too young.”

 

“OK. There wasn’t really anybody I wanted to date at 15. But what’s wrong with 16? If you average 15 and 17, you get 16. And, like, most of my friends could when we were 15 any –”

 

“I don’t care what your friends do. Like they must have the most irresponsible parents.”

 

“Um . . . I’m telling Elizabeth and Missy you said that. And Conor and –”

 

“You know I meant those cheerleaders,” he interrupts.

 

“For all we know, their parents are the kind that get CPS called on them.”

 

“ _You_ should get CPS called on you some–”

 

“Oliver!”

 

Oliver rolls his eyes. Great kids they have.

 

“We don’t need more comments from the peanut gallery.”

 

“OK. So like if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you jump off, too?” Somewhere not far from here, his mom is laughing her ass off.

 

“And this isn’t a negotiation. We tell you the way this goes; you don’t tell us, especially because you didn’t bother talking to us in the first place.”  Which is actually an awesome point, MP. (Dads 1, Daughter 0.)

 

“I was going to –”

 

“But you didn’t –”

 

“You’re mad because I didn’t talk to you but now –”

 

“You’re breaking off whatever you’ve got going on.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“You are.”

 

“No, I’m –”

 

Michael gives her a Look.

 

“I hate everything.” Lo jumps down from the stool, stomping like she did when she was a toddler and didn’t get her way. “Oliver?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I _do_ hope you step on a rusty nail.”

 

It takes him a second. “Hope you step on two!”

 

\---

 

He talks to Oliver a few days later. “For different reasons, I’m as not-cool with this . . . thing as you are, Gator. But you should make up with your sister.”

 

“Ugh, Pop, are you seriously gonna pull that old thing –”

 

“My favorite picture of you guys. No, no, look at it. C’mon, look at it.”

 

Oliver takes a quick look and looks away again.

 

“See? You love your sister and you know it. And anyway, Dad and I already put a stop to –”

 

“Geez, fine, Pop. Fine.”

 

\---

 

Except Lo’s not interested in making up. Not in the slightest. Not even the picture works.

 

Whenever she gets home after cheer practice, she goes straight to the shower and then her room to do homework. She only comes out for dinner and won’t talk to them, just throws baleful looks, mostly at Oliver.

 

Just like the looks Missy and Lizzie give Ryan during PTA meetings – the PTA meetings Michael skips because he’s an unsupportive asshole. Like, what, is everyone PMS-ing 24/7 now?

 

\---

 

Two swigs into his Gatorade, Ryan sees a crumpled-up piece of paper on the floor by the trash can. Like seriously, it’s not that hard to get it in, guys. But he hates anything messing up his – their – kitchen so of course he’s going to pick it up, even if he should make his husband’s/kids’ lazy asses get it instead.

 

Since he had to bend down and get it anyway, he’s just going to smooth it and see what it is. It’s probably like a flyer from a cult or some –

 

Or a math quiz with Lo’s name on it. Normal people would get throw-it-in-the-trash – try and _fail_ to throw in the trash – pissed off if they flunked, but it’s fine. It’s not a normal Lo (or Oliver) grade, but it’s not like the worst thing ever.

 

But Oliver did bitch forever about getting an A- on a big English paper.

 

_Like if Lo wasn’t being such a b–_

Oliver!

_Well, if_ someone _wasn’t being a_ witch _and like proofread my paper, I would’ve gotten an A, like I deserved that –_

_No, you got an A- and that’s what you deserved, kid. Lo’s not gonna read your papers forever._

_And I’m not helping her with math like_ ever again.

 

Like his mother would’ve _cried_ if _he_ ever got an A- on a paper. But she cries about a lot of things. But their kids are crazy and this is their Phelps showing. He’s used to it.

 

Now that he thinks about it, he wants to be like, _this kinda grade never happened before this boyfriend crap._

 

Except Lo’s aim isn’t that bad. She totally _wants_ to be yelled at. So then she can say _it was just fine until you got all up in my grill_ – OK, Lo would never say _up in my grill_ , but like something like that and he’s not falling for it.

 

Points for effort, though. She really is a sneaky little –

 

Michael will be so proud.

 

\---

 

Eventually, they realize they can’t avoid thinking about the whole our-kids-actually-dating thing forever. Phone calls from their moms probably help things along.

 

(He really never wants to think about that call again.)

 

“Now what?”

 

“Do we have to?” Michael whines.

 

“Have to?”

 

“Let her date?”

 

“I mean, unless we want to keep them _both_ locked up, because if we leave Oliver alone about this . . . dating stuff and just go after her, she’d probably _sue_ us.”

 

“Bet Peter would love that.”

 

“Erika would love the ever-loving shit out of that.”

 

“ _April Fools_ ,” they say in unison. Great minds think alike, jeah.

 

“But figuring out our holiday plans doesn’t solve our problem.” Michael sighs.

 

“Nope.”

 

“You sure we can’t send her to a convent?”

 

“She’d get kicked out –”

 

“In under 12 hours –”

 

“For sassing the Mother Superior,” he finishes.

 

They sigh.

 

“So?”

 

“We have to let her sometime. Ma got mad because, uh, I wasn’t even fifteen. My bad.”

 

“Yeah, Mom called us idiots and said she’d just end up getting in trouble if we cracked down so hard so she stops talking to us. I mean –”

 

“Which she’s done.”

 

“Eyes speak volumes, though.”

 

“Glaring daggers and all that.”

 

“I always have to check to see if I’m bleeding after she’s looks at me.”

 

“We can’t _actually_ lock her up or tell her she can’t date, like, forever –”

 

“Mom said the only thing that’d get us is –” Michael pauses. “Some horrible _16 and Pregnant_ shi –”

 

“No, stop. Stop.”

 

“So we let her date, within reason.”

 

“What does that _mean_?”

 

“I don’t even know.”

 

Ryan sighs.

 

“16’s OK,” Michael admits grudgingly. “Do you know Mom e-mailed me stuff about the age of consent, she got so hard-core about –”

 

Light bulb moment. Like in a cartoon! “But he’s not 16 yet, is he?”

 

“I mean, we don’t make the rules for _him_ , that’s all –”

 

“She can’t . . . date anyone . . . under the age of consent.”

 

“Or over 18.”

 

“That’s not –”

 

“We can’t make rules _just_ for this case; this is her _first_ relationship.”

 

Ryan knows their kids will probably date lots of different people, break hearts and have their hearts broken (he _will_ make anybody who does _that_ pay for it), but he’d rather not think about that, because he does like Charlie, you know? Well, before they realized he was a little snake in the grass, at least. “And these have to go for Oliver, too. Because you know.” Lo would never let it go.

 

“OK. If it – the relationship, the boyfriend, the girlfriend, whatever – interferes with school or sports or activities, they have to figure it out and fix it ASAP or it’s over, whether they like it or not.”

 

“Dates on weekends only.”

 

“The boyfriend or girlfriend can’t come over if we’re not home.”

 

“Can’t be alone in the kid’s room with the door closed.”

 

“They have to bring them over for dinner so we can meet them.”

 

“Even if we already know them,” Ryan finishes.

 

Michael’s eyes are gleaming. “I’m glad we’re in this together.”

 

\---

 

Over chicken parm, spaghetti and salad, they tell the kids that they have to stay at the table after dinner.

 

For a family meeting.

 

“A family meeting? Like what even is that?”

 

Lo opens her mouth during dinner for the first time in weeks. “I’ve only seen those in sitcoms; I don’t think they’re a thing in the real world.”

 

“They are and we’re having one.”

 

“The good thing about meetings is that you get good desserts.”

 

“Daddy, we always get good –”

 

“ _Tiramisu_.” And . . . he has them. They’re suddenly a lot more alert. “But you don’t get any if you don’t get through this meeting without bratting out or blood.”

 

They both pout, but he knows he has them, so he doesn’t care.

 

“So after talking _a lot_ , your dad and I set up some . . .  ground rules for you, um, for if you guys want to . . . uh, date people.”

 

“Who are you and what have you done with our real dads?”

 

“Can’t hide our heads in the sand, Gator.”

 

“Pop –”

 

“You two are getting old.” God, is he actually tearing up? No, just dust. “I mean, soon you’ll be collecting Social Security –”

 

Lo laughs, “We don’t need Social Security, we have trust f –”

 

“No, but seriously, dads, what even is this –”

 

And the smile’s gone. “Oliver, shut up –”

 

“Don’t tell me to shut up!”

 

“I will if you keep ruining –”

 

“Guys!” Michael takes a deep breath. “Oliver, any rules that do or don’t apply to your sister will or won’t apply to you, too. Do you want us to say you guys can’t date until you leave for college, because I’d be fine –”

 

“So would I, Dad. You totally –”

 

“Don’t _give_ him that –”

 

“Lo,” Ryan hushes.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“That was a rhetorical question. You can’t actually decide that, sorry.” Michael actually does sound sorry.

 

Lo sticks her tongue out at Oliver; Oliver flips her the bird. Oliver _really_ doesn’t it like it when things don’t go his way.

 

“Yo, Ols, stop that.”

 

“Anyway, we decided that 16 is a reasonable age.”

 

Lo suddenly looks very triumphant.

 

“You can date people 16 or over, no older than 18.”

 

Oliver smirks and then Lo obviously does the math. “What if they’re almost 16?”

 

“No dice,” Oliver and Michael say simultaneously. Michael then turns and glares at Oliver. “You don’t make the rules here. But 16’s the minimum.”

 

Lo fists her hands, but takes a deep breath. “I guess it’s not all that long until December.”

 

“Basically January.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Lo, stop it. Oliver, stop antagonizing your sister.” Michael’s kinda hot when he lays down the law like –

 

“So what are the other rules?” their firstborn asks way too casually.

 

This they prepared for.

 

“If it – the relationship, the boyfriend, the girlfriend, whatever – interferes with school or sports or activities of any kind, you have to figure it out and fix it _ASAP_ or it’s over, whether you like it or not.”

 

“Dates on weekends only.”

 

“They can’t come over if we’re not home.”

 

“So if she actually dates _my_ best friend, he can’t come over to hang out with _me_ , if you’re not home?”

 

“Oliver, c’mon, stop –”

 

“That’s actually a fair question,” Ryan admits. “Because –”

 

“Honestly, Oliver would be the best cockblock of all time any –”

 

“ _LO!_ ”

 

“What? It’s true.”

 

“On that note, we’re having another talk that goes with the relationship stuff. Soon.” Michael suddenly looks green.Right.“Unless we tell you otherwise or make exceptions, that rule applies to any and all significant others.”

 

“Can’t be alone in your room with the door closed.”

 

“You have to bring them over for dinner so we can meet them.”

 

“But –”

 

“Even if we already know them,” Ryan cuts in.

 

“Can you live with that?”

 

The twins are silent.

 

“Our way or the highway on this. We’re the parents; our rules aren’t unreasonable and as long as you don’t break them, everything will be fine.”

 

Crickets.

 

“Guys?”

 

“Fine, Dad,” they mutter at the same time.

 

“And you have to make up.”

 

“Pop –”

 

“Daddy –”

 

“One at a time.”

 

“And now that nobody’s keeping secrets and we’ve worked things out, it’ll should be easier. And you’ll stop yelling over each other,” Michael adds pointedly.

 

“Lo, you go first this time.”

 

Oliver rolls his eyes.

 

“What do you want me to say?”

 

“Why are you mad at Oliver? Keep it clean.”

 

“Because he’s being a total drama queen.”

 

“About?” Ryan prompts.

 

“Me and Charlie.”

 

Michael interrupts. “There won’t _be_ a you and Charlie if you don’t continue keeping it cool until –”

 

“December, I know.”

 

“ _29 th_,” Oliver chimes in.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Lo,” Ryan warns. “And the dinner first; don’t forget that part.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Anyway, is that all?”

 

“No, Daddy.”

 

“What else?”

 

“Because he tried to _sabotage_ everything.”

 

“What do you mean, sabotage?”

 

“Well, first, he threw a hissy fit at me and Charlie. Then he picked a fight –”

 

“No, I didn’t –”

 

“Yeah, you did, you just got in my –”

 

“Guys, cool it. Lo, keep going.”

 

“Well, we fought when we were both home and you heard and he tried to spin it –”

 

“Spin it? I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. No, seriously. Where’s the lie?”

 

“Like just presenting it all negatively –”

 

“Telling them you were sneaking around, you mean?”

 

“We weren’t _sneaking around_. Just keeping things –”

 

“From me?”

 

“ _Quiet_. For like a _week_.It’s not like anybody else knew.”

 

“But I’m different.” OK, the real problem.

 

“And ten thousand times more dramatic than –”

 

“Lo, let your brother talk.”

 

“But it’s my turn.”

 

“OK, to sum up,” Michael cuts in. “Lo, you’re mad because you feel like Oliver’s been overly negative about all of this.”

 

“Yeah and got me–”

 

“Oliver, why are you mad?” he continues over her.

 

“Because, like, of all people.”

 

“And because they were sneaking – didn’t tell you anything?” Ryan prompts.

 

“Are you seriously on his side?”

 

“I’m not on anybody’s side. I just – sometimes people forget to say things. And like, people who aren’t in the fi – situation can see that better than the people in it.”

 

“Yeah, that, too, Pop.”

 

“People can keep things to themselves.”

 

“Yeah, people. From some people.” Oliver looks away.

 

Lo softens at that. “Ollie –”

 

“And like, you date or whatever. What if you get in fights or you break up? Whose side am I gonna take? Like, you’re my sister. But like, he’s my best friend, you know?”

 

“I mean, obviously you’d take my side. And you’d still have Evan,” Lo jokes, obviously trying to lighten the atmosphere. “And like –”

 

“Doesn’t mean I’d be cool not being friends with Charlie.”

 

“OK. Does it help if we – I can’t speak for him and honestly, like I’m not even sure he’ll want to go out with me anymore after all this and –”

 

“That’s be good.”

 

“ _Oliver_.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to take sides.”

 

“But –”

 

“ _You don’t have to take sides_ ,” she repeats more firmly.

 

“OK.” But then Oliver looks annoyed again. “But, like, everything’s gonna be weird, because you guys’ll be all couple-y –”

 

“I think PDA is stupid.”

 

“That explains the making out in the –”

 

“Seriously, brother dearest? Fu – Eff off.”

 

“And like everything’ll be different. And then what if you break up, you won’t be friends anymore and our whole, like, group will be screwed up and –”

 

“Ols, you’re getting yourself worked up over stuff that hasn’t happened yet, isn’t even close to happening for a while.” Michael gives Lo a pointed look.

 

“But what if it does?”

 

“You’ll deal with it if it does.”

 

“And lots of my friends in high school dated and broke up and it wasn’t the end of the world. It was kinda awkward, but they got over it. Except for the one who went totally psycho ex after –”

 

Michael shoots him a _Look_.

 

“Charlie wouldn’t go psycho ex,” Oliver admits grudgingly. “So, like, you have to promise you won’t either and I’ll maybe be cool with this.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Do you promise?” he insists.

 

“I promise. Cross my heart and everything.”

 

“OK, fine. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

 

“Would that really be too much to ask?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“And no more keeping shit from –”

 

“ _Oliver_.”

 

“Sorry, Dad. Keeping stuff from me.”

 

“Fine, you big baby.”

 

“I feel so loved.”

 

“Now hug it out.”

 

“Daddy –”

 

“Pop –”

 

“Make your dad happy.” Michael’s just won himself some points right there. He’ll have to make it worth his while later.

 

They do.

 

And he does.

 

\---

 

When they walk into the living room, the kids are watching TV.

 

Why’d he get stuck starting this off? “So you know that other talk we talked about?”

 

“The one you _told_ us we’d have? We didn’t actually talk about it, like get a say or a –”

 

Michael shuts that shit down. Still hot. “Required.”

 

“Damn i –”

 

“ _Oliver_.”

 

“We’re busy, though.”

 

“Nice try, princess.”

 

“We know that’s DVR-ed. You can watch it later.”

 

“Daddyyy –”

 

“C’mon, there’s blondies with your name on ‘em in the kitchen.”

 

“No.”

 

“And red velvet cake, Oliver.”

 

“No.”

 

“I was really trying to be nice about this, but you’re not letting me. Are we gonna have to carry you in?” They thought a lot about how this little talk was gonna go and if they’re at least going to start it off with both kids together, they wanted to be sitting across from them, looking them right in the eyes and that’s not really possible in the living room.

 

The twins stomp off.

 

 _Here goes nothing_.

 

\---

 

Once the blondies are handed out and cake sliced and milk poured, they’re all just staring awkwardly at each other.

 

Michael coughs. “So. As much as we’d like to pretend that relationships only involve hand-holding and kisses on the cheek . . .”

 

“We know better.”

 

“Oh God.”

 

“Lo.”

 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, face somehow red and white and green all at the same time.

 

“Not to say they _have_ to involve more than that. If that’s all you feel comfortable with –”

 

“You shouldn’t let anybody push –”

 

Oliver, who’s been staring at the wall, red-eared and silent, finally cracks. “Pop, let’s be real here –”

 

“Because here’s the thing.” They had to change it up a little, but it was too perfect to pass up.

 

“At your age, you're gonna have a lot of urges.”

 

“You’re with a guy or a girl, you're going to want to take off your clothes, and touch each other.”

 

“But if you do touch each other, you will get chlamydia . . . and die.” 

 

“Pretty sure that’s not how it works, Pop, and anyway, we already had this talk in –”

 

“Did you?”

 

“Yeah, your bodies are changing, blah blah blah, wait ‘till you’re ready, blah blah blah, STDS, blah blah blah, safe sex, blah blah blah.”

 

“Can’t even count on _St. Peter’s_ to preach abstinence anymore,” Michael scoffs.

 

“That’s so sad. We’re all going to hell.”

 

“It was Coach Mac on the low, like _years_ ago, ac–”

 

“Anyway, we’re going to have to make up for it, so listen carefully. Don't have sex, because you will get pregnant and die. Or get a girl pregnant. And die.” They’ll have to have another talk with Oliver later because apparently boys are a thing (too?) if what Lo said before is anything to go by, but _Mean Girls_ doesn’t cover that and they never got that kind of talk themselves and – “Don't have sex in the missionary position, don't have sex standing up, just don't do it, okay, promise?”

 

“What the hell? Like what kind of sex talk even is –”

 

“No way, Dad. No way. I’m not jumping into anything, but like _someday_ obviously and this is –”

 

“Jeez, can’t you guys take a joke?”

 

“Seriously, that we were – mostly kidding. About the pregnant and dying part. And –” Michael coughs. “About the never having sex part. Unless you never want to. More power to –”

 

“C’mon, let’s be real.”

 

“We’re keeping this short and sweet because it’s probably uncomfortable for all of us. But like, we want you to know you can talk to us, OK?”

 

“Like yeah, we’d kind of rather you guys never grow up, but we can’t stop it and you can’t either.” Which . . . sucks. Ryan kinda does want them to be their little kids forever.  

 

“And part of that . . . most likely includes relationships and . . . loveandsexandallthat.”

 

“And like, we’re here. I don’t know that we have tons of wisdom and all that, but just – don’t do stuff you’re not comfortable with and don’t do stuff you’re not ready for.”

 

“Don’t let anybody pressure you. And don’t pressure them either. And if you’re ready, be safe. Last thing we want is you catching something. Because even the stuff that’s curable . . .”

 

“STDs are the worst.”

 

“Just try and avoid that whole mess.”

 

“And if you make us . . . _grandpas_ before you graduate from college, we’re disowning you.”

 

“But really.”

 

“I was gonna say kill, but that means we’d be stuck with the kid and we’re done after you guys. Totally done.” And Ryan really can’t resist. “Okay, now everybody take some rubbers.”

 

“You’re handing out condoms?” Oliver asks skeptically. 

“Yep,” Michael tells him. “Take them. No, really. Take them. And if you don’t use them for a while, get new ones. Because they expire, you know? And you can’t keep them anywhere too hot. Like be careful, because otherwise, they might not work right and we don’t want that.”

 

“ _No_ babies for you. Like, have you seen this face? This is not a grandpa face. I’m waytoo young, I _refuse_.”

 

“That gray makes you look _really_ young.”

 

“OLIVER WAYNE!” He’s not going gray. He’s not. He’s totally not going over his scalp with a fine-tooth comb when this is over.

 

(If he _were_ , it’s – it’d _be_ entirely Lo’s – and her driving’s – fault.

 

No, wait. The general stress, too. That’s pretty much all on Oliver.)

 

“Does it really matter what our snot-nosed kid thinks? You’re still hot.”

 

“Daaaad!”

 

“Stop it!”

 

“Stop what? Complimenting your father?”

 

“ _Flirting_ ,” they say with identical disgusted looks. The kids are so easily grossed out; it’s awesome.

 

“Any questions?”

 

The twins shake their heads.

 

“You want to talk to us alone? Like maybe there’s stuff you don’t want to say in front of each other?”

 

They shake their heads again.

 

“There’ll probably be some follow up – No, definitely there will be. But for now, just – good talk.”

 

“Yeah. But wait – Lo, I talked to your Aunt Kristin. And Lizzie, too. Because, like, we don’t really know a ton about some, uh, stuff.”   _Birth control_. Way too soon, though. He hopes.“And like, yeah, Google and stuff, we’ve looked it up and we can talk about it but like –”

 

“We thought a woman would be good, because like, they actually know what it’s like and um, the best options and stuff from uh, experience and not the Internet, so uh, whenever you want or need to talk –”

 

“Yeah, they know to, like – you know, expect it or whatever. But you don’t have to talk to them; you can talk to whoever you want, like one of your other aunts or Grandma or Nana or something, but we just thought they’d be good. Because they’re around. But not Missy. ‘Cause I think that would be awkward. Yeah. And like, we’re here, obviously. ”

 

“Yeah. OK. Great. Thanks.”

“Good talk, dads. We have a show to watch.”

 

“Right, yeah. Thanks, Dad, Daddy.”

 

Once the twins are out of earshot, he says, “Thank God that’s over with.”

 

“I’ll get the alcohol.”

 

Sometimes he really loves Michael.

 

\---

 

Wearing slacks and a button-up, Charlie comes for dinner on January 2nd, the same day his family gets back from the holidays. He shows up with dessert (how the hell did Missy have time to make _petit fours_ when they were flying cross-country?) and flowers.

 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t do anything obviously wrong that they can kick him out for during the meal.

 

After dinner, Charlie offers to help clean up. (He _used_ to do that, years ago, because he _wasn’t raised by_ wolves, _Ryan_ – thanks, MJ – but Oliver broke him of the habit pretty quickly. Both he and Lo are all about only doing just what they’re required to do. Brats.)

 

Perfect.

 

Lo leaves, obviously knowing this is it. But because Oliver’s a not-so-little brat sometimes, Michael has to literally drag him out of the room.

 

“We have to make sure we don’t let our kids date just anyone. You understand.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“If we agree to allow this, we don’t want to regret it.”

 

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I mean –”

 

“Whatever’s the right answer, _sir_ ,” Michael mocks. Ryan elbows him. “You’re no fun,” he mutters before turning serious again. “But really, if you give us reason to regret this, we will _make sure_ you regret it, too.”

 

“I won’t let you down.”

 

“You better not.” Michael’s not the only one who can play _super scary dad_.

 

“But – it’s not just that easy. We want to see what you’re made of.”

 

“Don’t you know what I’m –”

 

“Charlie.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“A couple races, some games,” Ryan explains. This idea made them feel _so_ much better about letting their daughter date.

 

“It’s harmless.”

 

“Maybe even fun.”

 

“Oh. Um. OK.”

 

“And one last thing: you make grandpas out of us and –” Michael draws a finger across his neck.

 

“Sleeping with the fishes.”

 

Charlie shivers.

 

To their – and Oliver’s (because this part they do let him help with) – disappointment, they don’t manage to scare the kid off.

 

Can’t win ‘em all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Mean Girls, which is quoted in dialogue here.


End file.
